Regular
by RainOnMyParadeBitch
Summary: It was just a regular day, a regular booty call, a regular best friend. Wait. "Regular" best friend? Mordecai's POV. MxR. Rated T, but be cautious. 5 Chapters. Alternative ending posted soon.
1. Obsession

**Hello! Since "Hungry" turned out more successful than any other one-shot I ever did, I decided that people much really like RxM, which I like too, (It's good to see people with my likes!) so to make people happy, instead of continuing "Hungry", because that was a simple two-shot, nothing major, I wanted to make a mini-fic. In Mordecai's POV, since he's my favorite. This mini-fic is going to focus on MxR, but going to have more fandom yaoi. And… This will have a MxM "fuck buddy" thing like Hungry did, but whatever. It's interesting, don't you think? (: I hope you enjoy.**

"Rigby, wake up." I mumbled, shaking him. Benson has already called out three times. "Fuck, Rig, let's go." He turned over and squinted at the time.

"You're such a pessimist. We have fifteen more minutes." He muttered, trailing off. Maybe I was being pessimistic. I pushed him away and got back into bed, but I didn't sleep. I never slept these days. I always had something or _someone _to think about. Usually it was my girlfriend. Or, my fuck buddy. Outside of the making out every so often, daytime was usually the same as it ever was. The regular thing was that she'd make coffee at the park some days, and when she didn't (I needed to get a glimpse of her everyday; I was obsessed with her) I'd drag Rigby to the café, and she wouldn't look at me much, but talk to me from the other side of the room.

She was so easy to obsess over, but I wasn't easily obsessive. I never obsessed over video games, or something, or someone, but Margaret was such an amazing sight, and an amazing person in general. But at night, all I did was feel, and when she began to have a more lustful look in her eyes - that's when I become obsessive.

"Mordecai, fifteen minutes is up." Rigby yawned at my side. He tugged on my hand. I rose and looked at the clock. Perhaps I was being pessimistic, but I ran. "Mordecai, wait up," Rigby trailed behind me.

I reached the stand. "Morning, Benson." He wasn't red, but he wasn't his usual color today. Pops was standing next to him, ready to hand me my daily lollipop. I muttered a quiet "thank you" and walked over to the food stand. Seconds later Rigby arrived, but I didn't say anything.

It was a regular day. No one was here, so I leaned way back in my chair and began to think. _What about Rigby?_ I asked myself. Rigby wasn't particularly fond of Margaret. In fact when he found out of my affairs he couldn't look at me for some time. It was a long time. I missed him so easily, but I would never admit that to myself. I'd never admit that when I couldn't sleep (or more precisely, I didn't want to sleep) I'd watch him on his trampoline. It interested me, how the second he went on his bed, he instantly fell asleep. I liked how deeply he breathed. It was so irregular. Up, down, down, up, up…

"Dude, Mordecai." Rigby knocked on my head. "Don't leave me hanging. Look at the line." Maybe I'm being optimistic, and he's being the pessimistic one. There were five people in line. Or five groups of people in line.

We gave the first three groups what they wanted. The fourth person in line was alone, a particularly beautiful robin, that Rigby didn't particularly like. "Hey, uh, M_a_rgaret." I emphasized on the 'a' because she emphasized the 'ai' in my name on our nights.

"Hi, Mordecai." She didn't say this especially lustfully, but there was a little bit of seduction in her eyes, and I became obsessed again. For a nano-second I wanted to hold and touch her right then, in front of everyone. She pecked me on the cheek and whispered something in my ear, but all I was focusing on was her hot lips on my lobe. This was cruel. When she drew away, I felt a stinging sort of pain. I was far too obsessed. "Just a bag of chips," she muttered, "Doritos. Please." I grabbed the bag and handed it to her. She gave Rigby exactly ninety-nine cents and then left.

Swaying her ass as she walked, too. Rigby whispered in my ear, "You saw her tits, right?" I chuckled, "Hell yeah."

We assisted the final group, and I sat back down in my chair. It wasn't obsession that I wanted my girlfriend with me all the time, was it? Or was it obsession that I wanted my fuck buddy with me all the time? It was obsession that I watched my best friend sleep, or at least I watched his chest.

My best friend. The guy who decided to get me into smoking and the guy who got into so much shit when he smoked that I had to make him quit, and I ended up quitting myself. He's a pain in the ass, but I can't abandon him, even if I wanted to. He's not particularly normal, but he's not really weird, just crazy. But here's the weird thing: he'd crawl into bed with me sometimes. But only on the colder nights, when it snowed. He wouldn't let himself touch me in any way, he just needed some blanket, or perhaps he needed someone to keep him company. I didn't care much, this way it was much easier to watch him sleep.

I'm a little psychotic. But not a lot. Besides my obsession with being obsessed, I'm pretty regular. I'm 23, I have a job, a best friend, and a girlfriend (or a job, a best friend, and a _fuck buddy_).

Rigby. I don't know how he's my best friend. He's crazy and stupid. But mostly crazy. And very obsessive. Over little things. Like video games, things, and people. He knows I love him either way, because he's my brother. We've known each other since sophomore year. He was a wanna-be cool kid, and I was average. We were lab buddies. He hated me. He hated how I was taller and how everyone was my friend. I was quick to invite him into my circle of friends. He shrugged it off on the first day, replying with a simple, "Maybe", but the more we saw each other, the more he decided that I was a cool kid to hang around. He started calling me "bro" and "man" and by the time we graduated high school we were the best of friends. We got the same job for that reason, and moved in together, since it would be easier to pool our money together to pay for rent.

Benson was easy on us when we were new. We moved to a regular town, and worked for a regular food stand in a regular park. Well, mostly regular town. There are some crazy people there. The drunks, and Skipps, and Pops. Mostly Pops. No one can be that nice. Besides Pops, I mean. He likes lollipops, and pays me in them. Benson pays me in cash. It's not a lot, but it's not bad. The park is a pretty popular place. I guess. People aren't obsessed with it. We have regulars, but we also have irregulars.

I keep getting told that this town was regular, that this park was regular. People came here and left. And there was a playground for the kids. To me it still seems kind of regular, except for when Rigby and I screw up, because when we screw up, it's anything but.


	2. Miscommunication

**Happy New Year, my little RigbyxMordecai fanatics! :D This is the second chapter, which means two/three more to go. This is pretty long, I guess. And a little more planned out. This chapter is rated T+, for a small..(cough) scene. And once again, I apologize for Mordecai being a little OCC, even though I hate it when people are outta character. Mordecai's my favorite, and I hate when he trails into someone else..**

Rigby and I worked until 9 PM on regular days, but some days were irregular. Some days, especially days when Pops or Benson had to leave early, (Wasn't it weird that they always leave early on the same day?) we worked until earlier. It wasn't regular. Pops was never a ladies man, just a guy who wanted friends. And Benson was a one-woman man. Benson and Pops never spoke as more than friends. Never best friends, just a boss and employee who were fond of each other. They acted so coy around each other.

Pops was plain weird. He was so sweet and perfect. He paid Rigby and I in lollipops and thought of people who pulled sick pranks as "people with too much time on their hands". He was open to the world, or at least, that's what the world thinks. He loves everyone, as far and everyone is concerned. Pops believes that everyone deserves a special day that they feel loved, and he's the one to prepare that day for that special person.

On my day, it was the day I turned 23, he didn't throw me a big party. There wasn't alcohol, just Benson, Skipps, Rigby, Margaret, and himself. No one else showed up. It was in the park. Just a long table, a cherry pie, and paper plates but real silverware. Pops and Rigby were the only ones who gave me gifts I'd never forget. Benson gave me a pass to eat (not save) anything from the snack bar I wanted for a week, Margaret gave me birthday sex, or birthday kind-of-sex-but-lasts-until-the-clothes-are-off-and-then-I-chicken-out sex. Skipps got me money. Twenty bucks. I've saved it since. I never needed that much money. Pops got me a bracelet. Woven. And written in Pops calligraphy, it said, "We need special days" and I hugged him. Then Rigby handed me a box. The size of the box for a perfume. I didn't want to open it, thinking it was a prank, but when I did, I was so happy I did. It were those earphones I've wanted for so long. They were a full 80 bucks. And they were beautiful. On the part that went over my head, the words, "Mordecai, my buddy" were written in Rigby's messy "handwriting" in orange marker.

It was the best birthday ever.

Pops gave everyone a special day except Benson. Or if he did, then Rigby, Skipps, Margaret, or I weren't invited. When we asked him about it he'd reply, "Forgive me, we will have a proper celebration one day."

Rigby and I walked home together. Usually awkward. Today it was awkward as ever.

"I think I did something right today." I muttered.

"What do you mean?" Rigby looked up. His voice was soft. The snow was light. A small frost on the ground. Not even an inch of snow.

"I mean, Margaret-" He cut me off. I was about to say that Margaret seemed especially interested in me today.

"You're not going to her place tonight, are you?"

I was shocked. I didn't know if I was. She was especially lustful today. I always missed Rigby on the nights I spent with Margaret. I replied simply, "No."

"Good." I was about to ask why he replied with a 'good'. He didn't like Margaret much, I know for sure, but when I announced that I was leaving to go to Margaret's, he'd yell back, "don't get her pregnant!" and I'd laugh but not reply.

It was so awkward. I plugged in my birthday headphones and listened to _Chase Coy. _He wasn't my favorite, but he was pretty chill to listen to, especially on colder nights like this.

"_So tonight: sweet dreams, and sleep tight…I've been trying so hard, can't get you out of my mind. And if this is how it has to be, just promise you won't forget me, and I'll leave you with this lullaby, tonight." _

I bet it was so simple for him to get a girl. I wasn't a bad singer. I recalled future me making me lip synch. Then there was another open-mic night. I sang _Vida La Vida _by Coldplay on my guitar that I failed at playing. Standing ovation. Kind of. Margaret stood, and her boyfriend, Angel, glared up at her with eyes saying, "sit down, you're embarrassing me".

Home at last. I dropped my coat on the floor and crawled into the couch in front of the TV. Rigby sat next to me. I looked at him, peacefully staring into the screen playing a random Disney show. "Want some hot cocoa?" I blurted. I didn't want to get up and make him some, but it was chilly, and I decided to do a good deed. He nodded, and asked if I needed help. I said no.

Our kitchen wasn't big, but it wasn't small. I took out the Nestle Instant Cocoa and poured milk into two mugs. I pushed them into the microwave for two minutes. When it was hot enough, I mixed in the cocoa and skipped marshmallows. The snow was outside was now thick. _How cliché, _I thought, _hot chocolate with your best friend on a snowy day._ I turned off the kitchen lights and handed the Spongebob mug to Rigby. He muttered a small, 'thank you', and returned his focus to three teenage wizards in a mummy's hide-out.

I stopped listening for a second, and just watched Rigby again. His chest was rising evenly, and when he took a sip of his cocoa, the drink slipped down his throat so easily. He was so interesting. The only reason I was so interested in Rigby - and Rigby only - is because he was so similar to me. I couldn't watch myself breathe, or watch chocolate slip down my throat.

This was regular. For me, anyways.

Rigby turned to me. I was staring at him. I don't know if my face turned red or not, but I definitely choked, "Mordecai? What the hell are you looking at?"

I looked up. "I was looking at that…" I stopped, "bug. Over. There." He looked over. There was no bug. "It. Flew away."

He rolled his eyes, "You're such a stud." And turned to the TV.

I checked the clock. Almost midnight. "I'm going to go to bed." I nodded nonchalantly, focusing on Selena Gomez's boobs.

I chuckled, walking up the stairs. Bath time. I turned on the shower and waited for hot water. The hot water came but I didn't bathe. I just sat on the small bench and thought a little.

I miss Margaret. I can't live without her. She knows everything about everything, but she doesn't know anything about me. She has those book smarts that let her survive in everyday life. Not the "_do my homework for me, nerd_" book smarts, but the hot book smarts… I'm trailing off. She knows nothing about me. She doesn't know my favorite color, but I know hers. Atomic Orange. I didn't know it was a real color. She pointed it out once in a conversation.

"_Mordecai, check this shirt out." _She came out with the most low cut shirt I've ever seen. _"It's Atomic Orange, my favorite color. Is it not adorable?" _

Rigby, on the other hand, (there I go, trailing off into Rigby) knows me, too well. He celebrated the very day I turned 23, two months, and three days. And he knows how I change my favorite color every week. It's currently yellow. Plain yellow. The water was hot on my skin (too hot, to be exact) but I was too deep in thought to notice the hot water burning me.

_Knock, knock. _"Mordecai. It's been a while. You dead in there?" Rigby chucked, with a hint of genuine worry.

"Wait, what? Sorry, bro. I'm done in here." I choked out, despite the fact that I hadn't used soap, or cleaned myself in any way. I came out of the shower, to see Rigby inside. "Dude, what the h are you doing here?"

"Cool your engines, dude. I'm hear to take a crap." Attractive. I grabbed a towel and silently made my way out the door. On my way to the bedroom I heard him hum the song, "Gimme More". I almost laughed out loud.

I dried off silently, hopping into bed. I let my fingers dance over my thighs teasingly, like Margaret did. I kept teasing myself softly, until my fingers had enough, and I absentmindedly let them run over my groin. I softly moaned. Unaware of how fast I was going, or what I was doing, overall, I kept at it. I pictured it was Margaret. And I moaned. Loudly. Despite the fact I was thinking about Margaret, and how it was _she _who has been fucking me for the past few weeks, I moaned the six letter name I would never have thought to moan: "Rigby!"

I stopped the second I realized I said my best friend's name, or the second he replied, "Yes?"

The awkwardness was killing me. He looked nonchalant, like he didn't care I was (cough) pleasuring myself. His straight face slowly formed into a sly smirk, "You're fucking yourself over me, aren't you?"

I sputtered out, "Rig, I didn't mean to. I was thinking of…Margaret."

"Hey, no worries, I won't like you less just 'cause you're gay." Why can't he understand that I am not, repeat _**not**_, gay? _At least I don't think I am. _

I covered myself in sheets. "Rigby, I'm not into…men."

"That explains why you screamed my name."

"Shut up. I was thinking of Margaret." It was true. I have no idea why Rigby's name came out. I mean, I love him, but I don't, or I mean, I'm not…in love with him.

"Because you love her, right?" What the hell's that supposed to mean? I sighed. Do I love her?

I don't know why that simple question bothered me. Was it because you couldn't love fuck buddies? I kicked my sheets off me, "I dunno."

"Then why in the world do you go to her house every night to fuck?"

"I dunno. Its for pleasure. She's a benefit."

"Well to heck with that. You don't love her. What's the point?"

"It's sex, Rigby! It's pleasure. For both of us. Maybe you should get yourself some pleasure. Go fuck yourself."

Maybe I was getting way too mad. But I couldn't think of anything else. Maybe there wasn't a point. Besides pleasure. She fucked like a goddess, but we just…fucked.

We never talked - all we did was fuck. That idea, isn't pleasurable.


	3. Realization

**How are your 2011s going? Mine is going fine. Anyways, here's chapter three, so two more chapters left. I'm really thankful for those sweet reviews you left, and I swear, even though you guys may not be into it, I'm continuing my TDI fanfic after I'm done with this one. I'm not upping the rating, even though there's another hawt scene here, because it's awfully vague. **

Rigby stared at me, then shook his head, crawling into his trampoline.

I tried to apologize, but I said what I said - there wasn't a way to turn back. I couldn't say, "look, Rig, I didn't mean it."

It's not like me. I looked away, and fell asleep, a dreamless one.

Rigby was looking at me when I woke up, "What the h are you looking at?" I mumbled.

"Nothing. Look, dude, I'm pretty sure I was high on cocoa last night, or like, under the influence of…I dunno, but it was my fault you got in deep shit. Fucking yourself isn't a big deal, but..over…? Gah. Okay, let's pretend I never said-"

"Hey." I gave him a bear hug. "Get ready, we're going to work early." Why? I like the park to myself. It's a big place. And in the morning, the dew it so…cleansing. And plus, without Benson, I can relax.

"Fucking pessimist." I heard him chuckled.

"I'm calling Margaret." He didn't reply. I picked up the old phone and dialed her number.

"Hey, Mordec_ai_. What's going on? Why weren't you here to _work _last night?" Work. that's what she calls sex. "Work" because its hard would to make her hit her full pleasure. "Work" because it's work to go over then and fuck her then leave. Leave. No kiss with love. French kisses with lust.

"Sick," I coughed, "If I feel better I'll go over there tonight."

Her sweet voice was gone now, and it turned into a sexy growl, "I would've wanted you to come over here and fucked me senseless even if you were sick as…" She kept mumbling over and over dirty things.

"Marg-" I moaned.

"Dammit, I love it when you do that…" She kept rambling in a sultry voice. I was obsessed, but I wouldn't admit it.

I hung up. "Rigby, I'm going over to Margaret's."

"Don't get her preggers…" I heard his laugh a little.

I ran over there. It was only a few blocks away, and God, when I got there I was out of breath. I rung the doorbell four times, and she answered, completely naked. "Damn, M-"

She grinned, "Shut up." And pulled me over to her bedroom. She stripped me down, and we did what we did almost every night.

She pressed onto me, so close it hurt, my back pressed up against the cold wall, the room steamy and now smelling like vanilla. When she drew back, I stung so painfully, then she pounded back onto me, and she screamed a swear. I grasped her tightly so she wouldn't leave, her eyes fighting tears. She threw herself on me one final time, and stayed clinging onto me, and I said, probably louder than I should have, "Damn, Margaret, I love you!"

She stopped at that moment. And silently put her clothes back on. Left the room, and slammed the door behind her. I stood there, naked, and now somehow shameful. It was just about the sex, wasn't it?

I got dressed, and walked through her house, making my way to the door. Margaret not in sight. I trudged to my own house silently. Rigby was on Benson's computer playing an online game, yelling at the screen. "Hey," I sighed. No reply.

I went up to him, and he looked up, "Hey, Mordecai. 'Sup?"

"I fucked Margaret." I did, and it slipped. It slipped that I said "I love you" when she thought it was all about the sex to both of us? Does she ever love? Or is it just pleasure to her? Because I don't know about her, but I really want someone to love.

"Oh… How was that?"

"Fucking amazing. But she kind of hates me."

"Did you get her pregnant? What did I tell you?"

"I told her I lo-… Nevermind, I'm going to bed." Why should I tell Rigby? The chances of him making fun of me for it was so likely.

"It's midday. We gotta go to work." To heck with work. I don't want to hear that word. We gotta go to work is like saying _sleep with me, right here, right now _for Marg.

"Tell Benson I'm sick."

"Alright, bro. Whatever you sayy…" He muttered, sarcastically.

I walked to bed. Rigby followed. I got under the un-made covers. "Okay, tell me what really happened."

"I told her I loved her."

"So?"

"It was all about the sex." I held back tears.

"She's a slut."

"She isn't. She wants sex. And so do I. I miss her." I just really want sex. It sounds greedy, but I'm so used to it, obsessed, really.

Rigby put his arm around me, "Rig.." I muttered.

"Be quiet." He learned forward.

Was he gonna kiss me? Why was that my first thought? Damn, do I want him to kiss me? He's not gay, neither am I! Or, I don't think I am. Wait! Lady pecs, where are they on him? God, his breath is hot against my lips, it's causing me to sweat.

Then we make contact. It's better than the fourth of July. He presses up against me, and pushes me against the wall my bed's leaned on. I was sitting straight with my legs stretched out in front of me, and Rigby crawled over them, his left arm and leg on one side of me and his right arm and leg on the other.

He sat down on my legs, dangerously close, and whispered, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

I smiled softly. "I think I do."

In minutes, we were too close. I'm not gay, I kept repeating to myself, but my screams proved me wrong. The room smelled similar to Margaret's, except with a hint of ecstasy and Dude-Time.

He held onto my shoulders, claws digging into my skin, hurting so pleasurably, and wrapped his arms around me and stopped, then whispered, "Thank you."

I ignored him and grinned, breathing heavily. "You know, I think this is the best possibly way I could've found out I was gay."


	4. Apologies and Want

**I'm sorry.**

The rest was pain. It was so painfully regular, except without Margaret. She's come to the park, but not take one look at me. She'd go, "Hey, Rigby," and nothing more. It's like I was invisible. And I hated it. I wasn't over her.

It was also painfully regular because of the fact Rigby and I were back to being best friends. Sometimes we were best friends that happened to kiss - make out buddies, but I almost ignored it. I scrolled through the pictures of my camera, looking at pictures of Margret and I, mouth to mouth. And then somehow the pictures transitioned from Margret and I to Rigby and I, (drunk, maybe) kissing, and hugging onto each other, in skin-tight clothing. He was wearing dark grey skinny jeans and a Fist Pump t-shirt. I was bare-chested, wearing the darkest skinny jeans I've ever seen.

Next picture, I was licking his cheek, and he stuck his tongue out in a punk-rock way. Next picture, Margret and I. My hand was on her breast, and we were making out.

I turned off my camera. I couldn't see this anymore. I absentmindedly walked into the café. Her café. She didn't look at me. Instead, she sent another person to help.

"Anything you want in particular?" He said, in a slightly rough voice. I looked up- the voice was innocent and familiar. He was probably a high-school buddy. "Mord…Anything?"

"Wait, what's your name?" I coughed out, "Never mind - er, just.. espresso…That's it."

"Hey, it's Bosley." He was a squirrel. I think. Chipmunk, maybe. "Boz..? You remember. You're down. Why."

This wasn't a question. "Yeah, I remember you…" I grinned slightly, "Me? Down?" I smiled, sarcastically. "I'm dumped by your boss, even though we never went out…And, my boyfriend, he…" He stopped me.

"Hey, you kind of just met me. You don't have to say everything. I'll be back with your expresso. See you. I'll have Margaret with you in a second." I walked away before protesting was possible.

I heard a, "Over there? No!" from Margaret, and I couldn't help feeling horrible. Then she walked to me.

"Hey, Margaret." It was barely a whisper. I was scared. She abandoned me. She left me naked. It was the most devastating thing that's ever - _**ever **_happened to me. I was terrified. She left me.

I thought it would be forever.

Her face was no longer soft. "I'm sorry." She said. It was almost not sincere, yet totally serious. It was not soft. It was no, "I'm sincerely sorry for all the shit I put you through" it was more like, "Look, I'm fucking sorry. The fucking guilt is killing me."

"I'm fucking sorry too." I whispered.

"Seriously?"

"Fuck off, I said 'yeah', okay?" I cracked my knuckles.

Her face looked genuinely hurt, and I tried to shake off the feelings I still had for her. "Looking, I'm not good at expresso-ing myself…"

"Just," She almost began to cry, but then walked away.

Bosley was frozen.

I left. What else could I say?

I didn't even pay for the coffee.

I can't stand being here anymore.

So I walked home. Or, maybe ran home.

Rigby was home. Does the good Lord hate me? "Oh, hey, Mord." Said he, as I walked by.

"Hey, Rig." I said, sullenly. I walked into the room and laid on my bed.

I need to think. After my encounter today, everything Margaret and I have been through…Am I over her? Or does my story need a new love interest? I don't want to keep on hating her, I really don't. Then there's Rigby. My best friend- who I love, so, so much. I felt like my brain has exploded. And then Benson, what will they think of my decision to be gay? Or bi. Or straight with curiosities? What about Pops, who is the most Christian person I've ever met? Will he think I'm unholy or ungodly or whatever? What about Skipps? What will he think? What about _Bosley_? Is that insane to think that he'll hate me? I dread telling Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost. He'll say, "You know who else is gay? _Not my mom!_" Jesus Christ. I can see that.

I can see it all.

I don't want to be gay. I can't be. I don't want to fall in love.


	5. Clarity

_**I'm sitting on my bed over summer break crying from extreme writers block. Hate me. I really don't know what to do with this. I guess the last chapter will just be crappy and stupid. But yes, I know for sure there's gonna be another ending. I feel like Margaret needs some love, even though I hope she dies and Mordecai is all like, "hell yes," but no. So, there will be a lovely alternative ending posted sometime after this. **_

_**I wrote this over a billion times. I kept thinking, Mordecai should come out, but no. That's fucking stupid. Maybe later. So, no. I'm going to make this as fucking depressing as I can and ruin all your lives. **_

I groaned and fell back on my little bed. I won't tell anyone for now, I thought. No, its too early, and I don't know for sure. I'm not in love, yet. I never was in love, with anyone. Not Margaret, especially. Because I guess that was a sick illusion. I was drowned in lust and sex. I'm not in love with Rigby either. At least that's what I keep telling my self. Fuck, go away feelings.

Whats funny is that Margaret truly doesn't give two fucks. She doesn't care that _I _cared about her. Or maybe was just obsessive. And insane. Her sex drove me into insanity. I threw the camera lying on my bed at the wall and the lens popped out. Fuck that, it was cheap anyways.

But it wasn't. I spent like, two whole paychecks on that. It was the memory card I didn't want. There we go, Mordecai screws up. Again. Rigby comes in because he hears a crash. "What the hell, bro?"

"Oops," I muttered sarcastically, "My hand slipped."

"You're a good friend," He started, sitting on my bed, "but don't hurt yourself just because you want to be a jerk. Because you know you're not over that _slut._ But I'm here. Whatever you need, okay?" He stood up and walked away.

A fucking good friend, am I?

I stood up and told Rigby I'm going back to the coffee shop. He said, "Kay, but don't fucking screw up."

"Hm, hm." I said, kind of like our own little, 'affirmative'.

So I walked. I felt like Forrest Gump. I walked and walked until the little sign was in clear view, and I entered the empty café. Boz was back.

"I feel horrible about not paying."

"Its okay," he said, giving a little smile, "I mean, I'm 24, I handle the hate well." He grinned a little.

"I wasn't hating, its just… But I feel like, guilty, pain in my stomach. I'm not usually so fucking rude its just, things are…messed up. But, here." I handed him a twenty dollar bill, which was 17 dollars more than the coffee was. "Keep the change." I stopped for a second, then laughed. "Isn't that kind of ironic? Keep the change. Funny."

He blinked, "You're mentally crazy. Its kind of, cute. Insanity. But you're fucking insane. No way am I taking all this. Yeah, maybe a two dollar tip for being so damn adorable but seventeen dollars? Take it back."

"No way in hell. Wait, cute?"

"Shut the hell up, I've recently came out."

"You're kidding." I eyed him, thoughtfully. "Same here. Kind of."

"Good luck with that."

"Seriously though, keep the money. You need it more than I do. With that bitch as a manager, I think you've gone through enough hell."

"Mordecai. She's not a bitch. And you know that. If you have feelings for her… I mean, she doesn't stop talking about you. She's not ignoring you. She just…She's got some shit in her life too, its not just your life that's crap, okay? She still likes you, I suppose. I think she just is messed up."

"No, I don't have feelings for her. I'm not in love." I became angry.

"I never said you were-" Bosley started, only to be cut off by an annoyed groan.

"Ugh! I'm not in love, Boz. I, I don't have feelings. For anyone."

Bosley grabbed my wrists. "I think someone is here for you."

Rigby stood at the door, wide eyed. "Mordecai, you're still thinking about her, aren't you?"

Before I could protest, Rigby was off. So I just stood and watched him scamper off into the park, until his shadow was no longer visible. Then I walked out the café and then I came to a realization. An epiphany.

I do love Rigby, why else would my heart beat a million times faster when we kiss, or why does my heart sink whenever his eyes look sad, but his mouth forms into a forced smile? Yeah, I fucking do care about Rigby.

But he's gone. Wait, I can change that. I ran into the park, no way of knowing where the hell I was going. I covered every inch of the park I knew, and I found myself wandering into the more deserted part of the city. This is were the bars, dealers, and gangs were. I've been here plenty of times when I was younger.

"Rigby? Rigby! Where the hell are you?"

I didn't see anyone. No bar was open, no man, or animal, in sight. Just the smell of garbage and cannabis. The smell of teenagers. It was hilarious how immature kids are in high school. How its so freaking cool to be high. Let me be the first to say that it seriously sucks.

"Rigby?" I walked around the neighborhood and moved back into the park. Then I remembered, that secret place only Rigby and I knew. It was just a really big tree with a ton of rocks at the bottom of the trunk. It was funny how much that place meant to Rigby. When he first lost his virginity when he wasn't even a teenager yet he came here to cry. He was high, he blubbered. It was just a party. Mordecai, what do I do? I told him he was lucky to have someone to fuck him even if she was high. (Or he was high) But that was mean. It was messed up for me to say that, since I (I won't say fucked) _did him_. Kind of.

God, that didn't mean anything did it? It was kind of a moment thing. He'd never do it again. And those kisses? Of course they don't mean nothing. He's just as in love with me as I am with him.

"_If you do that I'm gonna lose every inch of respect I have for you!" He said, as I waved my hand jokingly over the alcohol on the counter. Alcohol that was Benson's. Someone had a dirty little secret. _

"_Good, then we'll have the same amount of respect for each other." I grabbed the bottle and swallowed a tiny amount._

But I do have respect for him. He's had his heart broken for the past, what, six weeks because he knew I was fucking Margaret ever friggin' night. But then I kind of mended it. Then broke it again.

I found him sitting in the tree, mumbling some shit and crying. He was crying. And I couldn't climb the tree. So I shouted, "Rigby! Come down here. _Please." _I tried. Before he responded I started crying as well.

"Fuck you, Mordecai. I loved you and you're still thinking about her!"

"You never loved me," I said softly. "It was just to make me feel better. You _never _loved me."

"I wouldn't make _love _to someone if I didn't love them!"

"Then why did you in eighth grade?" I have gone too far. Rigby started sputtering and crying louder.

"Stop talking!" He yelled, then added softly, "How do you know I didn't love _him_?"

"Him?" Now I was curious, and the tears stopped, and I gripped the trunk of the tree in an attempt to climb up.

"Yeah," he sniffled, "his name was Bosley. I- I don't know where he is now. He probably doesn't even fucking remember me. But, but…Yeah, I can love."

"Get down here." I commanded, my voice a little harsher than I had intended.

Rigby climbed down the tree and stared at me in the eyes, making me feel weaker. These are the eyes I fell into, and I walked draw closer and further as he did. They began to water a little bit, then they cleared up, so I could see the dark brown that I liked ever so much.

"I'm a fucking good friend, aren't I?" I grabbed him by the shoulders. "You don't…_love _friends in an intimate way. Or are you just messed up?"

"You are a good friend, Mordecai. You're also my best friend, and my lover. You can be three things at once. You, I mean, I love you."

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

And he did. He smelled like leaves and coffee with a hint of nerd. But I guess I loved him because of that. Yeah, I think I loved Rigby. My best friend, lover, and boyfriend. Funny how messed up it sounded. _Yeah, he's my boyfriend. _But we were just messed up. Everyone is on the inside. We're all just a little screwed up. Because no matter how regular our job is, or how regular our town is, or how regular it all seems, its really anything but.

_**And that's where I'm ending it. Alternative chapter later, I still need to think of what I'm gonna use Rigby for in that, he probably just won't be a big part of it. So, how did you like it? I wrote this with all the fucking emotion I could muster and shed a tear or two when thinking of other possibilities that won't live up to this story's T rating. So, please review and share with your friends and cats, favorite if you like it, and favorite me as an author if you **__**really**__** liked it. **_

_**And yes, there will be another Regular Show fanfic sometime soon. And it might not be MxR, might be something **__**worse**__** so look out for it. Also look out for the alternative ending if you're into MxM, I guess. But that's gonna be a pain in the fucking ass for me to write, since you know I hate Margaret. Okay, I love you assholes. Rain on my Parade, Bitch, 3.**_


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